Poetry by Joanell Serra

              ​Isaac Bowen CC



the atlas of dolor

1
I’m here for the magic 
the lines in my palms 
an atlas that always points south  

a sage in the form of a man 
emerges like a vision
from the leafy path 

of saguaros, wild birds
and scampering lizards
whispers in delicate Spanish

you will know pain
like never before
but you will live


2
on bleak November afternoons
I sing a hollow dirge 
to lost innocence

my tongue stained from gnashing 
summer berries and the marrow 
of our grief 

in the country of childhood
pioneers roam forbidden nights
plant a flag to prove sovereignty 

my soul escapes 
through the open windows
I dance in a place where bodies lie fallow

​
3
I know the hoofbeats
of time in my own eyes 
listen to the river mouth sing

with the rustling of stones 
polished 
by life’s rough waters 

I am carving
my place in this world 
and a fresh wood canoe

to carry ripe mangos 
old stories and my bones
back to you

​



Summer Scribe of Lake Kanawauke, 1977

on the last Saturday morning in June
I extricate myself from the house of messy boundaries
mother’s swollen joints, dad’s Italian temper

a red bandanna marks my backpack
on the lumbering journey 
from the sweltering streets of Hackensack

to a rustic camp for young Christian women
tucked in the folds 
of the Catskill mountains

on the pebbled shores 
of a lake with a native name
that laps melodic after dark

the old cabin planks are warped
from the weight of generations 
of girls and their clammy secrets

the screens windows are full of holes
moths rest on our pillowcases
bats in the rafters

at night 
I climb to the top bunk to write 
by the light of the moon
drunk with passion for my cabin mates
and the counselors who play
love songs on long-necked guitars 

I scribble odes to the sound of canoe paddles 
dipping in unison
and grasshopper symphonies across the water 

my words rise with the illicit 
cigarette smoke
from  the counselors’ quarters

please, I plead to the man 
I am told watches from above
let this be home

​
​

JOANELL SERRA is a poet, playwright, novelist and essayist from Northern California, with work published in Eclectica, Blue Lake Review, Black Fox Literary Magazine, Manifest-station, Gold Man Review, Write Launch, 1888, Poydras Review and elsewhere. Books include The Vines We Planted (Wido, 2018) and (Her)oics Anthology, a collection of women's essays about the pandemic (Regal House Publishing, 2021). Her work has won multiple writing contests.